


The Eternal Flame

by StxrsofOrion



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Battle, Curses, F/M, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Golden Age (Narnia), Hate to Love, Immortality, Love, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Magic, Narnia, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, War, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StxrsofOrion/pseuds/StxrsofOrion
Summary: Amara is the niece of Jadis, the White Queen, who held her captive for thousands of years until the Pevensies freed her when they took down the witch. For a long time, Amara lived with them at Cair Paravel where she pursued a romance with High King Peter until they disappeared.Now, thousands of years later, young Prince Caspian escapes from the Telmarine castle and wounds up at Amara's doorstep.All of a sudden, she is caught up in a war, that she wanted nothing to do with. But she cannot escape the prophecy from her visions, which shows destruction and death from her suppressed powers. Powers that no one knows she has.She has to understand her emotions in order to control her abilities. But this becomes gradually harder when a long lost love, Peter, returns after 1300 years.She has to fight her love for Peter and the new feelings that arise between her and Caspian in order to focus on the war and task at hand.
Relationships: Caspian (Narnia) & Original Female Character(s), Caspian (Narnia)/Original Character(s), Caspian/Susan Pevensie, Peter Pevensie/Original Character(s), Peter Pevensie/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	1. PROLOGUE

**PROLOGUE**

Prince Caspian awoke in the dark night to a large hand covering his mouth. The fear disappeared as quickly as it had risen when he saw the familiar face of his professor and friend, Doctor Cornelius. 

“Five more minutes.” Caspian pleaded as last night dreams tucked at him to fall back asleep.

“You won’t be watching the stars tonight, my prince. Come we must hurry.” Cornelius yanked him out of bed which jolted Caspian awake. He now understood that something was terribly wrong and that he had to go but the reason was still a mystery to him. 

Cornelius pulled him to the big wardrobe in the corner of his room, he stepped inside but Caspian was reluctant to leave. 

“Professor, what is going on?”

“Your aunt has given birth-” Cornelius’ eyes were haunted by knowledge not yet bestowed upon Caspian. Usually, news of a child would be celebrated by everyone. But not this time- “... to a son.” Cornelius disappeared into the wardrobe and Caspian quickly followed but left the door open a crack so he could see. 

He looked out and saw Glozelle, the General of the Telmarine army, and a handful of men with loaded crossbows who surrounded his bed. They all fired, unaware that it was empty. Caspian didn’t wait for them to find out and dashed down the winding staircase with his professor. 

His mind was tumultuous. These were his soldiers, yet, they tried to kill him. It didn’t make any sense.

He got his sword and hurried on top his faithful horse, Destier. 

“You must make for the woods.” Cornelius ordered, his eyes wider than ever before and his breathing, rapid. 

“The woods?” Caspian questioned, the colour draining from his face. For several years now, whenever anyone went into the woods, they did not return. There were many myths and theories concerning the reason, but the most common one was that it was the Narnians.  _ But that was just a myth… _

“They won’t follow you there.” Cornelius handed Caspian a wrapped object. “It has taken me many years to find it. Do not use it except at your greatest need.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I hope so, my dear prince. There is so much I meant to tell you. Everything you know is about to change.” A yell not far off distracted them and set things into motion. “Now go!”

And with that Caspian rode off on his horse, with a group of soldiers led by General Glozelle following him not far behind.


	2. First Meeting

**CHAPTER ONE**

_First Meeting_

"The Telmarines are moving further into the woods. We need to do something." Nikabrik stated, his hatred towards the Telmarines was obvious from the venom in his voice.

Around the table sat Trufflehunter, a talking badger and the renowned owner of this treehouse, Trumpkin, a dwarf, like Nikabrik, and Amara, a powerless witch with a hidden past.

"We have done something. But if we keep pushing them they will stop coming back in groups. They will come back with an army." Amara said–not because she hated them any less than Nikabrik, in fact, she hated them even more– but because she was their leader and she couldn't afford to be irrational.

Over a thousand years ago when the Telmarines first invaded, the Narnians were pushed back and into the forest. Amara kept to herself, but whenever the Telmarines came too close for comfort, she attacked. The Narnians were scattered, defeated, hopeless, but when they heard someone was fighting back they regained some unity. Amara had been their unofficial leader ever since.

"They're chopping for lumber. Let them have some." Trumpkin said backing her up.

"Have you forgotten where we live? If they chop for more lumber we won't have any place left to hide." Trufflehunter said, gesturing to his home. A cosy hole in a large tree.

"What if we attack them for a change?" Trumpkin said, looking to Amara.

"It's been more than a 100 years since our last proper attack, surely, it's about time for another," Nikabrik said with a hint of greed in his voice.

Amara felt the pressure and the impatience amongst the group. She would have liked for nothing else than to let her anger go and to fight the bastard Telmarines, but she knew that too many lives were resting on her shoulders. She couldn't afford to be anything less than pragmatic. She took a sip of the badger's homemade wine, quite horrible but she made do. "We've kept them at bay for so long, Nikabrik, what more do you want? For us to storm the castle? We tried that before they even built it and we failed."

"That is because we lacked leadership."

She chugged the contents of her cup and slammed it down on the table, hoping that her anger would conceal her shame. She failed them when they needed her the most.

"By all means, Nika, lead us." she stared him down, almost daring him to try. She suppressed the pit in her stomach that begged for him to take her position. She'd had a thousand years of failed leadership, and she wished for nothing else than for someone to release her. She wasn't born for this. She wasn't even Narnian. Not really.

"Now, now, have some porridge." Trufflehunter passed the bowl around in an attempt to ease the tension in the room. But Nikabrik was unyielding and he'd started a fire that he and Amara had danced around in silence for a while now.

"We could easily take them out. If only you would use your powers-"

"-Nikabrik." Trumpkin interrupted him and advised him to be cautious. The people around the table were the only ones who knew Amara was a witch. The other Narnians believed she was a daughter of Eve, who'd been cursed by the White Queen, to live an eternal life. At least half of that was somewhat true.

"No, she won't use her abilities. But there is someone else who would be willing." Nikabrik says, leaning forward and raising his brows.

"What are you suggesting?" Amara asked, dreading that she already knew the answer.

"I think you know," he said with no sign of shame apparent on his face. The audacity. "The White Queen could wipe them out in a day."

"How dare you... The White Queen is dead and she must remain that way! You don't know the first thing about her or what she did! You weren't there-"

"-No I wasn't. But I have heard of her accomplishments and I know of her power because I see that same power in you but you will not use it."

"NIKABRIK!" That's quite enough." Trufflehunter abruptly stood up and the table fell quiet. When the kind badger, Trufflehunter, gets upset, one knew they had messed up.

"I am not my aunt… Witchcraft leads to destruction, ruin, and sorrow. It is a path I will not follow" Amara finally said after moments of awkward silence.

"So be it," Nikabrik said. His hopes of resurrecting his infamous queen shot down.

Silence befell the tables and all they heard was each other chewing and slurping. That's until they heard the faint thudding of hooves against the ground.

"Centaurs?" Trumpkin asked wide-eyed and looked to Trufflehunter who put his snout into the to sniff.

"Humans." He looked to Amara who was already hurrying to her two daggers on the table.

"Truffle stay here. Nika and Trumpkin, keep behind me," she ordered as they collected their weapons. The dwarves were adequate fighters, Trumpkin an excellent swordsman, but for centuries, no one had bested Amara. To their defence, she had a lot of time to practice.

Amara opened the door to the forest and it only took a second for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A guy, approximately the same age of appearance as Amara, was laying on the ground but quickly sat up when he noticed the door open. His hair was frazzled and he was covered in leaves. There was no horse in sight, so he must have fallen off. For a second, time was frozen still as they looked at each other. It was as if she'd seen a ghost, he looked exactly like someone she'd seen before. Years ago. But she couldn't quite place where. His eyes were filled with fear and hers with hatred. He quickly shifted his gaze to behind her, where Nikabrik and Trumpkin appeared. She looked down at the ground, embarrassed by her inaction. Here she spotted a relic that had been presumed forgotten in time. Queen Susan's horn.

"He's seen us," Nikabrik stated.

Trumpkin rushed forward with his sword drawn about to go in for the kill

"Stop! The horn!" She said and gestured to Susan's beautiful, ivory horn. The mouthpiece of the horn was shaped like a budding flower and the bell was carved in the shape of a lion's head, evoking Aslan. It brought up memories of a lost time and old friends. And him. He with the blond hair who bore the crown, he whom she loved-

Amara was snapped out of the trip down memory lane by a group of soldiers riding into the small clearing with their swords raised.

"Nikabrik, take care of him!" she demanded and fastened her grip on her two daggers as she sprinted towards the enemies that outnumbered them by a dozen. Seemingly they would have had an advantage, being on horseback and her having short-range weapons... but quality over quantity.

She threw one directly into the heart of the front soldier and then dodged a horse that was about to trample her down. As swift as a coursing river, she slid under a galloping horse whilst cutting off the horse's girth. Without the band keeping the saddle fastened and in place, it quickly fell off along with the rider. She grabbed him by the collar of his armour before he hit the ground, slamming him down in front of her with a crash.

She ignored the pleading eyes of a young soldier as she thrust her weapon into his chest. His steel armour no match for her sharp dagger.

"No!" she heard Nikabrik yell out behind her, as he approached Caspian, who was reaching for the horn.

Suddenly its powerful sound filled the air. It resonated through the forest. Past the trees and the laws of nature. Up towards the sky and beyond. The sound as loud as thunder but far longer, as elegant and sweet as music over water, but strong enough to shake the woods. And shake it did. It shook Amara right to her core. The sound waves flooding her body as if it was trying to drown her. She toppled to the floor. Her eyes were open but she could not see. She couldn't control her body. There were muffled voices around her. A faint sound of retreating hooves. The horn had stopped but she still felt it resonate in every inch of her body. Suddenly she saw images. They' were random. Incoherent flashes. Her heart tugged when she could make out what the first image was.

Peter. But he was young. The Pevensies. Susan. Lucy. Edmund. Peter. Another guy. Black locks and dark eyes to match. Susan. Lucy. Edmund. Peter. Him again.

Then the repetition faded into blackness and Amara out of consciousness.


	3. Running Away

**CHAPTER THREE**

_Running Away_

Amara awoke. Still tired and in need of sleep. Just like every other day. She looked around her windowless bedroom. Yet it didn't feel confined, it felt like home. In here, she felt connected to Narnia. Her eyes followed the lines of the smooth tree trunk twisting itself into an abstract ceiling. Along the tilted walls she'd hung her few possessions. Despite being alive for many lifetimes she didn't own a lot. But her room was covered in art, vibrant rugs, clothes, and a _few_ weapons. Most of it was stuff she had stolen from Telmarine caravans, stuff that was meant to decorate som rich lord's castle, but it was hers now.

After the fall of Cair Paravel, she had no home for a long time. She found a hollowed-out tree and for a while, she lived there. Then she met a young Trumpkin. Much like the other Narnians, he was alone and in need of help. She provided that and shelter. Years went by and Trumpkin met an old friend. Nikabrik. He moved in, and with him, more radical ideas on the fight against the Telmarines which had been neglected for a while.

One day, they came across a badger in peril. Trufflehunter. He was the one to make their treehouse into a home. He made him, Amara, Trumpkin and Nikabrik into a family. A dysfunctional one, but a family, nonetheless.

That very family could now be heard throughout the treehouse. But it felt different. Where there were once laughter and cunning jokes there was now silence. An absence. Trumpkin was missing. Suddenly, the memories of yesternight came flooding in. The soldiers. The boy. The horn. Susan's horn. The vision. The Pevensies.

But the Pevensies were young. A few years older than when they had first arrived in Narnia. But why would she be having visions of the past? That doesn't make any sense. And it has been decades since her last vision, so it must have meant something. But what? Perhaps, it was just a dream, she lied to herself.

"This bread is so stale," Nikabrik complained.

"I'll just get them some soup then, they should be coming around soon." Trufflehunter added, from the kitchen. _Them?_

"Well, I don't think I hit him hard enough!" Nikabrik growled, and Amara realized who they were talking about. The Telmarine with Susan's horn. Amara had ordered Nikabrik to take care of him. She actually thought they were just going to kill him. She would have to be a little bit more specific next time.

"Nikabrik he is just a boy."

"He is a Telmarine. Not some lost puppy! You said you were gonna get rid of him, it is what she ordered us to do." Amara was taken aback. Nikabrik rarely liked following Amara's orders. But when it came to killing Telmarines, Nikabrik never needed a lot of convincing.

"No! I said I would take care of him. Amara can reevaluate the situation when she wakes up. And we can't kill him now. We just bandaged his head. It- it would be like murdering a guest." Trufflehunter opposed.

Amara managed to get up. She cast one look in the mirror and didn't like what she saw. Her brown hair was a tangled mess from the fight. There was even a few leaves in there too. She untangled one from her hair and let her side braid loose which was already partly undone. They didn't change her dirt-covered clothes, but they did remove her shoes. The idea of the three of them struggling to get her into bed made her slightly chuckle. She was twice their height, so it must have been an awkward commotion.

"Oh, and how do you think his friends are treating their guest?" Nikabrik's and Trufflehunter's bickering was still going on. Amara should get down there. But perhaps a little time to clean herself up wouldn't do any harm.

"Trumpkin knew what he was doing. It is not the boy's fault!" Trufflehunter insisted but was cut off by a ruckus. Something fell to the ground. Followed by footsteps nearing the entrance. She quickly grabbed her dagger and dashed up the stairs when she heard the sound of a sword on metal.

"I told you we should have killed him when we had the chance!" Nikabrik yelled.

Amara snuck up from behind. In one swift motion, she grabbed him by the wrist, twisted the hot poker out of his hand, and pushed him against the wall. The dagger was pressed against his throat. Subduing him.

"Yes, Nikabrik, you should have," Amara said through gritted teeth. Her jaw clenched. Trying her best not to kill the Telmarine scum.

"Amara. You know why we can't!" Trufflehunter pleaded her, and she knew exactly why. The horn.

"If you're taking a vote, I'm with him," the Telmarine said, gesturing towards her badger friend, with both his disarmed hands still raised.

"If we were, yours wouldn't count. Now, tell me how you got Susan's horn before I cut your throat," she hissed. Her nose crinkling in disgust and anger.

"Amara... please," Trufflehunter begged but Amara merely shot him a look. That's when she saw his big eyes and furrowed brows. The puppy eyes. Truffles didn't like being called cute, but deep down he knew that he was undeniably adorable if he wanted to be, and he would take advantage of it at times. Amara's high pulse dropped, and the tension in her muscles were let loose. With a deep breath, she sheathed her dagger into one of the holsters strapped to her thigh.

"Sit. Down." She stared him down. And he did exactly that.

"Thank you." Trufflehunter picked up a bowl of soup he must have dropped during the ruckus. "And you! Look at what you made me do! I spent half the morning on that soup."

"Wh- what are you?" The guy interjected. His dark wide eyes quickly shifted from person to person. Sweat was glistening on his forehead. He was clearly terrified.

"It's funny. You'd think more people would recognize a badger when they saw one."

"No, I mean… You're Narnians. You're supposed to be extinct." He said, leaning forward in his chair.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Nikabrik shook his head and took a seat at the table.

"We almost are. Thanks to your kind." Amara glared at him.

"Are you not my _kind_?" he asked in confusion, obviously puzzled by her human appearance. Which offended Amara, she didn't know what was worse, her actual heritage or her being mistaken for a _Telmarine._ Her nostril flared and she was about to spit back with a string of profanities, however, Trufflehunter blocked the view, as he stepped between them with a new bowl of soup.

"Here we are. Still hot."

"Since when did we become a boarding house for Telmarine soldiers?" Nikabrik asked.

Amara wondered the same thing.

"I'm not a soldier!–" the guy regally stood up. Back straight. Making Amara reach for her dagger. "–I'm Prince Caspian… the tenth."

A Prince? Amara was seething. Caspian. Narnia had been terrorized by a long line of King Caspians. Killing innocents, stealing, raiding, and invading places that weren't theirs. They were the worst of the worst.

"What are you doing _here_?" Nikabrik questioned calmly. He knew the history of the Telmarines, but unlike Amara, he wasn't alive during most of it. As a result, he didn't tend to get as emotional about the matter.

"Running away." Caspian moved towards the fire. Amara's fingers were tingling on the shaft of her dagger. Itching. Waiting for him to make a move. Perhaps even hoping. But he didn't. Instead, his eyes filled with dread. "My uncle has always wanted my throne.–" His gaze averted to the flames. "–I suppose I have only lived this long because he did not have an heir of his own."

She couldn't listen to this anymore. A part of her couldn't tell if she is upset because of him or because the story reminded her so much of her own life. She felt Trufflehunter's eyes on her, he had connected the dots as well. "Well, this changes things," Truffle said, his voice thick with worry. A paw to his heart.

"Yes… It means we won't have to kill you ourselves." Nikabrik leaned back in his chair, slight amusement in his tone.

"You're right." Prince Caspian stormed towards the door and started putting on his brigandine.

"Where are you going?" Trufflehunter asked.

"My uncle will not stop until I am dead," he stated. And they all knew it to be true. But he was being irrational. Stupid even. What was he going to do? Storm the castle? Assassinate his uncle? Amara had looked into a lot of eyes in her time, and she had come to recognize certain things about people. One thing she could tell from looking into Prince Caspian's eyes were that he was not a killer. Sure, he was a dirty Telmarine, and if he grew up he would become a killer, naturally, but for now, he was a boy. A boy, who had been chased away from his home by the only family he had left.

"Wait. You're meant to save us." Truffle softly lifted the horns towards him, gaining the attention of Caspian. "Don't you know what this is?"

He couldn't possibly be the savior. He was a Telmarine. A royal Telmarine. They were still the ones who had started the war in the first place.

Prince Caspian grabbed the horn and inspected it for a moment. He probably knew what it was, but for some reason, he was reluctant to say it out loud. Perhaps, even with Narnians in front of him, he somehow didn't quite believe in them.

The horn was supposed to be a way to call upon the old king and queens of Narnia. Many believed it to be able to summon them like a beacon to light their way home. But to Amara, the horn was nothing but a myth. The old king and queens of Narnia were dead. But Susan's horn was still to be respected. She had been like a sister to her after all.

Amara grew tired of waiting for an answer. Even though only mere seconds had passed, it seemed longer, because any second spilt here was a chance for the Telmarines to kill Trumpkin. If they hadn't already. "There is no time for this." She reached for the horn in his hands but as soon as her fingertips graced the smooth ivory surface she passed out again.

This vision was as vague as the last one, but this time she saw other images. The Pevensies again. Then Prince Caspian. But he was surrounded by Narnians. They were holding their swords up. Not to attack. No. They pledged their allegiance. Then other images. A war. Lots of deaths. Blood. _Amara. Amara!_

" _Amara_! Wake up dear," she heard Trufflehunter repeat her name as she slowly came to.

She pressed her hand against her head and rubbed her temple with her index finger. Nika and Truffle looked down at her with worried faces. They asked her a bunch of questions, but Amara ignored them. She had no time to answer if she was okay or not.

"Where is Prince Caspian?" she asked the second she noticed he'd gone.

The two of them exchanged a look before Truffle answered, "he caught you before you hit the ground and then when we were busy tending to you he- he left. Said he had to go and kill his uncle."

"What. an. idiot." Did he really think he could just wander into the castle and kill the man in charge? And who the hell was he to just wander off? He probably didn't even know what way he was going. "I need you guys to go get him. Follow him. Stop him. Keep him safe for now. Just do something. And then call for a meeting with the other Narnians."

Her head was still fuzzy from passing out and with very few pieces she tried to put the puzzle together of what the vision was about. But she had no clue. However, there was an inkling that the Pevensies might just be back but she mustn't get her hopes up. Because if they were back then all that vision showed was that they would bring war and death with them. Amara couldn't allow that, not when so many Narnians had already died.

"Keep him safe!? But you hate him..."

"Hate him?" she answered Nikabrik with a slight smirk, "What gave it away?"

"If looks could kill, you surely would have with how much you were glaring at him." He said, almost proud of your seething rage towards the boy.

"What has changed?" Truffle added.

"I saw him. In my vision. I don't know what it means… Not yet at least"

They looked at her, eyes wide in bewilderment. She didn't give them time enough to get worried, so instead, she pushed herself off the floor, and commanded them to catch up with Caspian.

She stayed behind, planning to go after Trumpkin as soon as she could. Which meant she had to hurry in getting dressed. There were _so many_ layers. First, a white blouse, followed by a sleeveless leather vest, that tightened in the front like a corset. The pants were leather too, which was restrictive in movement, but they were lightweight and did a decent job as armour. With difficulty, she tied the leather vambraces that covered from her wrist to her elbow. After tying her knee-high boots, and slipping another dagger in there, she fastened her criss-cross leather shoulder holster to her back that carried her two dual short-swords, followed by a leather belt, with a little pouch for food and a water flask, the leather belt connected to a leather strap to each of her thighs, where she had four daggers on each leg. She braided her hair into a manageable side braid and rushed out the door.

The horse tracks the Telmarines made the night before were easy to follow. It was a clear path in the direction of the castle. But if he had been taken to the castle, then he wouldn't stay there for long. Back in the old days, when the Telmarines were actively hunting the Narnians, the few whom they found, were executed by drowning in the river. If they still followed protocol, that was where Trumpkin would be. And the time was short.

Amara yanked the horse's reins to the path that led to the river. Once she reached it she galloped along the bank, keeping an eye fixed on the water. It started to get harder, keeping the speed. The river was bending and narrowing, all the while, becoming more difficult to ride by, as the bank became bumpier, overgrown with weeds, and trees that blocked her path. She started upon an incline, whilst the river flowed downwards.

She was riding on the edge of the cliff when she spotted the jolly-boat. What she expected was far from what she saw. It wasn't Telmarine soldiers rowing the boat. It was two boys, a blond and a brunette, with two dark-haired girls, a child and an older one. She abruptly got off the horse, crawling towards the edge of the cliff, as silently as possible. Staring at them. Trying to make sense of it. But it didn't make sense.

The boat was too far away to distinguish any features, but she didn't have to see their faces, to recognize their silhouettes. The realization hit her, like a crashing wave. They were the friends she never thought she would see again. They were her first family. Her first shot at happiness. And she had betrayed them.

They were the kings and queens of Old. They _were_ back.


	4. The Reunion

# CHAPTER FOUR

_The Reunion_

Amara was immovable. She knew she should make herself known. Reunite with them. Although she knew this was real, some part of her was trying to convince her that it was fake. A cruel trick of the mind. She hadn’t seen them for centuries. How was this possible? Everyone thought they had vanished completely. So many had lost faith. _She_ had lost faith. But if they were back then she couldn’t lose them again. She couldn’t lose _him_ again. 

Her eyes, looking through the tall grass, were transfixed on him, Peter. She could hardly recognize him from this distance. He was different. That much was clear. He looked younger, they all did.

She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself. But it didn’t work. Every possible emotion was hitting her all at once. She was happy, overjoyed to see them, but confused beyond reason, not just by their age disparity but their purpose, _why_ _were they here?_ Amara thought back to her vision of the Pevensies. War. Horror. That would all follow their return as well as Prince Caspian’s presence. Under no circumstance could she allow that to happen. There’d been peace between the Telmarines and Narnians for decades now, a peace she had fought so hard for and sacrificed so much for. She had already lost so many loved ones over the years of fighting. Not again. 

She decided to follow them, let them make their intention known. She had to make sure that they still wanted what was best for Narnia, and that they weren’t imposters. At least, that was the lie she told herself, so she didn’t have to face the truth which was, that she was fighting a battle within herself between succumbing to her fear of losing them again and jumping into their arms in joy. She couldn’t decide whether to run away _again_ or to join them, so stalking them seemed like a decent middle ground. For now. 

They finally reached the shore, where the cliffs ended. They climbed out of the boat that Trumpkin started tying down. Amara was hiding in a bush along with her horse on the other side of the river that was now only ankle deep. She wanted to see their faces. She needed to. But she was afraid they might see her as well, and what they might do. Amara was closer to them now than she had been for a century. Peter’s face was visible from the side and a part of Amara begged for him to just look in her direction. But he didn’t.

She hadn’t seen that Lucy was wandering off before she heard her call out.

“Hello there! It’s alright, we’re friends.” Lucy said. Just for a second Amara thought, hoped, Lucy was talking to her. But her eyes shifted to the wild bear Lucy was approaching. _No_. It stood on its hind legs, looking at Lucy, and Amara had to fight every fibre in her body from warning her. But Trumpkin did it first.

“Don’t move, your majesty!” he called out, making a run for his bow. But he was too slow. Much too slow. The bear was already charging. Susan aimed at it with her bow, but she didn’t fire.

“Stay away from her!” Susan warned, to no avail.

“Susan, shoot!” the panic in Edmunds' voice was evident. 

The bear continued charging, the space between it and Lucy grew smaller with every millisecond. And so did Amara’s patience. She couldn’t wait for the others to act. The dagger was already gripped tight in her hand. 

Lucy screamed, falling on her back. 

But before she’d even hit the ground, Amara emerged from the bush. Swinging the dagger, and releasing it, sending it on a straight path across the river, past the others’ heads, and into it’s heart. 

The bear fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Instantly dead. 

Without looking back, probably thinking Susan had fired an arrow, Peter rushed to Lucy with his sword, pointing it at the bear’s body. 

Susan, Edmund, and Trumpkin, however, had followed the trajectory of the dagger and all of their eyes landed on Amara. She was nothing but a mysterious figure that they could see in the distance. They didn’t exactly have the same supernatural eyesight, as she did. Time seemed to slow down as she stood there sheepishly. Frozen. Resisting an urge to turn heels and run back into the forest. But she put on a brave face, mounting the horse and crossing the river. Time to face her weakness.

As she closed in on them their look of confusion deepened as–who they thought was a stranger–turned out to be an old friend. Alive. 

“Amara?” Edmund tilted his head in doubt, blocking out the sun with his hands as he looked up at her as if she was a ghost. In a way, she was one to them. The Pevensies never found out that Amara was immortal. So when they figured that centuries had passed since their last visit, they presumed she had died with the rest of their friends. A part of her had died. 

Their eyes were wide with disbelief, that was until Lucy saw Amara. She didn’t try to grasp the logic. She never did. She simply saw a person whom she loved and she acted upon that feeling. She sprinted toward her, calling out her name with a smile spreading from ear to ear. Amara got off the horse and opened her arms that Lucy jumped into. The momentum caused Amara to take a few steps back, but she didn’t loosen her tight grip on Lucy. Amara closed her eyes, embracing the warm moment. Joy, indescribable joy filled her entire body, as Lucy nestled her face into her hair. Tears slipped from Lucy’s eyes. Happy tears. 

“I thought you were dead,” Lucy sniffled. Amara caressed her back, before putting her down. “We… We came back and so much time had past. We thought… I-”

“Let me see your face,” Amara said amiably, pushing Lucy’s now-messy locks of hair away to expose her features. After a decade or two, Amara had lost the ability to picture the Pevensie’s in her head. She had forgotten their faces. But she had never forgotten how they made her feel- “You’ve changed,”

Lucy’s smile faded a bit, she had gone from young to old to young again. But Amara had remained the same. 

“You haven’t.” Lucy stated, studying her with her eyes, ”Why haven’t you?” 

Amara didn’t answer the question, and she didn’t need to, because Susan pulled her into a tight hug, unknowingly rescuing her from an impossible conversation. 

“I’m so happy to see you, you have no idea!” Susan said with a smile and dimples as deep as the ocean. The hug didn’t last long since Susan wanted to let Edmund who stood right beside them greet Amara too. 

This time, it was Amara’s turn to be lifted off the ground. Edmund spun her around, in a tight embrace. He wasn’t a wide-shouldered, nor big or muscular as he once was, but he was still lean and strong. 

“I missed you so much! You have no idea how tedious it is to only hang out with these dull people all the time!” He said with a grin, making Amara chuckle. The two of them had always been the best of friends. And she hated that she had to leave him as well, in order to get away from Peter. 

Peter. 

His clothes looked a size too big, his scruff was gone. His most prominent feature was no longer his reassuring smile but his troublesome eyes. And he was approaching Amara hesitantly. As if he didn’t believe she was actually there. Or as if he didn’t want to get hurt again. No matter the reason, he kept a safe distance. 

Amara could barely bring herself to look at him, so ashamed of what she did those many years ago. She was afraid that he hated her. She was afraid that he didn’t remember her. But most of all she was afraid that he still loved her. Like she loved him. And she feared that she would be able to see that in him. But when she finally brought herself to meet his gaze, she couldn’t tell what he thought. 

They stared into each other's eyes. And a thousand memories flooded in. She remembered how he offered her a home at Cair Paravel, she remembered when he taught her to fight, to dance, and to love. She remembered her first kiss with him, her first fight and her last. She remembered what she tried to forget over the years, which was that she left him. It was so long ago, but now it felt like yesterday. It felt like an old wound, had been ripped open. After loving each other for years, she had left Cair Paravel without saying a word. And after that, he had disappeared along with his siblings.

But now he seemed indifferent to her. He looked at her as if all she had ever been to him was some old acquaintance. He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He gave her a short hug, but it brought no warmth. 

“Peter, I-“

“Thank you for saving Lucy,” he said with a monotone voice, cutting her off from saying anything else. Her mouth was agape, and all words were stuck in her throat. 

He nonchalantly walked past her and didn’t look at her again. She wondered for a moment if he didn’t remember her. It had been centuries for her, but she didn’t know how long it had been for them. Or maybe he did remember her. Maybe he remembered how he confessed his love to her only to find that she left him the next day. Maybe he did remember the betrayal. Or worse maybe he just didn’t care… 

Amara’s eyes flickered away from Peter and to Trumpkin who looked a bit beat. She was terrified something might have happened to him. He was a solid rock in her life and she wouldn’t be able to manage all this without him. She put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up and covered her hand with his combined with a little squeeze of reassurance. He didn’t need to say anything, his eyes said it all. _It is okay._ But it isn’t. Not to Amara. 

“I have to go,” Amara said, drawing in the attention of the Pevensie’s. Peter suddenly sent her a look that she again couldn’t determine what meant.

“But- we just got you back!” Lucy protested, her big eyes begging her not to leave. 

“I know. And do not think that I’m not thrilled to see you all,” she said, her eyes falling upon each and every one of them, lingering on Peter just a second longer than they were supposed to. “But I have certain responsibilities now and with all that’s happened, I need to ride ahead and let the Narnians know of your arrival. Trumpkin will accompany you to our meeting spot in the Shuddering Wood and ensure your safety.” Her demeanour had changed into that of a commander, a sudden authority reigning over her appearance, making her seem older than what she looked like.

Trumpkin nodded in approval as she mounted her horse again. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy came up with a few protests on having to separate with her so soon, but they agreed with her when she explained that it was only for two days or so and that it was in their best interest. She wanted to make it clear to them that it was because of professional reasons that she would ride ahead so they didn’t think that it was because she didn’t want to spend three days hiking through the terrain on an intimate journey with Peter. Although that might have played a part.


	5. Chapter 5

#  CHAPTER FIVE

_ The Speech at the Dancing Lawn _

The sun was about to set, as Amara reached the Shuddering Wood. She came galloping in high speed, passing a few Narnians who loyally nodded at her in recognition. She reached a clearing where she found a small group of centaurs, dwarves and various animals huddled around something on the ground. They all quickly made way for her as she pushed past them to see.

It was Trufflehunter. Bleeding. 

“What happened?” Amara asked, earning herself a short glance from Caspian who was sat beside Trufflehunter, along with Nikabrik, doing his best to treat him.

“He was shot by  _ Telmarines _ ,” Nikabrik said, side-eyeing Caspian, undoubtedly placing some of the blame upon him. 

“Any casualties?” Amara said as she kneeled beside them, instinctively grabbing Caspian by the wrist to lift his hand off the wound so she could see the damage. Luckily, the wound didn’t go too deep. She put his hand back, not even sparing him a glance. “Keep pressure on the wound.”

“No casualty of ours. Besides my dashing behind,” Trufflehunter joked and forced a smile through the pain.

“ _ Dashing behind _ ? I gather that you have taken some damage to head as well then,” she joked back, earning a few chuckles from the surrounding spectators.

She took out a tiny glass jar from her pouch, containing an herbal ointment, and applied it to the wound. Although it looked dirty, it was a recipe she’d perfected over the course of centuries. It had become known to the Narnians as the best mean to cleanse wounds, take away the pain, and make it heal significantly faster. She ripped the sleeves off her shirt and used one of them as a bandage and tied the other to her belt as it may come in useful later. 

The action had incidentally exposed the many scars on her arms, that she’d accumulated throughout the years, some were from deep wounds caused by swords and arrows, those would never have healed properly in a normal lifetime. Others were just slashes and bruises from accidents and near-misses. 

Caspian’s dark eyes fell upon the scarred arm, his mouth falling slightly agape. He looked pitiful, which is the last thing Amara would want. When their eyes met, he quickly looked away and back at Trufflehunter. 

Amara breathed freely again as the situation was handled. She then stood up to address the huddled group. “Start gathering everyone. An announcement will be made come nightfall. Until then: rest.” 

Everyone nodded, taking her word as law, and then cleared back into the woods. She called upon a couple of centaurs and asked them to make some food.

“Trumpkin?”

“Alive.” Amara answered Truffle who let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank Aslan.”

“Actually… It’s not quite Aslan you should be thanking,” Amara said, and then told him, Nikabrik and Caspian about the return of the Old Kings and Queens. 

A little while later, Amara needed to speak to Trufflehunter solely. A thought had been reoccurring in her mind and she didn’t exactly know whether to act on it or not. In her vision, she saw a war which led to many deaths, and in order for that war to happen then both Caspian, Peter, Edmund, Lucy, and Susan had to be alive. Which she explained to Truffle and only Truffle. 

“A lot of the Narnians here would see him killed. Caspian. And I can’t quite say I disagree with them.” she said in a hushed voice, earning a concerned look from Truffle. 

“Amara, you cannot suggest such a thing. He’s a boy! He is innoce-”

“ _ Innocent _ ?” Amara cut him off, her nostrils flaring- “he is a Telmarine. He is as far from innocent as they come. And his death might prevent the death of hundreds of Narnians.”

“In all honesty, Amara, you should know better than to judge someone based off of their heritage.” He countered, referencing her relation to the White Queen. 

“That was a low blow.”

“I’m sorry, but I speak only the truth. We badgers have a good memory, and I remember your story well. Think not that I couldn’t see the similarities between who he is and who you are. You want to push the hatred you have for yourself on to him and that is unjust, dear. He saved my life today well-knowing it might cost him his. He is good. As are you. Don’t let him being a Telmarine cloud your judgment.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I’m a thousand years older than you.”

“As do I, child.”

With that Amara got up from the ground and went over to some of the centaurs whom she had instructed to make food. Most of the Narnians could eat unprepared food, but the dwarves, centaurs, Trufflehunter, Amara, and most likely Caspian was in need of something cooked. Today it was a stewed mixture of leaves, nuts, and grass. It had an awful smell and a taste to accompany it.

She grabbed a wooden bowl and headed to sit on a tree stump to eat in peace. Across from her Caspian was seated, sitting with his back against a tree. Holding a bowl of stew but seemingly not eating. Amara took a deep breath and crossed the distance between them. He didn’t see her until she plopped down beside him. Clearly, lost in his thoughts. 

“Is it not royalty approved?” She said, gesturing to his full bowl. 

“No, it’s quite good. I’m- I’m just not that hungry” he said with a smile. 

“That’s a lie. You haven’t eaten in a day. You’re starving.”

Caspian forced a smile. Perhaps a bit embarrassed that he couldn’t eat the food given to him. Not at all what Amara expected from a Telmarine prince. 

She took some bread from her pouch to give to Caspian, who at first looked at her with mistrust. He had not been blind to the hatred she had for him at first. Their eyes locked for a second and she did her best to give him a look of reassurance. “Don’t worry,  _ your Majesty,  _ poison isn’t really my style.” she said sarcastically. 

He put the bowl back on the ground to take the bread, and that’s when she saw his hands. They were still covered in Truffle’s now-dried blood. Her eyes fell to the ground shortly as she put the bread away again.

“Put your hands out.” She commanded. Which he did without question. However, he furrowed his eyebrows, which Amara had noted he had a tendency to do. She poured a little water from her flask over the palms of his hands. 

His eyes darted back and forth between the hands and her delicate face, as she now rubbed them clean with the other sleeve that she’d torn from her shirt. “He is alive. Trufflehunter. And I hear I have you to thank for that,” she said, sparing him a glance into his conflicted brown eyes. Caspian could not figure her out. 

“They only shot him because they were trying to shoot me.”

“They are Telmarines, they would have shot him either way.”

A silence befell on them as she scrubbed at his hands. They were more calloused than most of the Lords of Telmar she had encountered in her time. Nobles didn’t do a lot of hard labor. She couldn’t imagine where Caspian had gotten his hardened hands. Sword fighting? 

“Are you good with a sword? If this ends with a war you’ll have to be.” She tried, as a means to figure it out.

“I’m adequate,” he said, humbly. “I have never seen a girl fight as you do. Or anyone for the matter. You saved my life the other night and for that, you have my gratitude.”

“No need to thank me for that,” she smiled. “As it happens, I told Nikabrik to ‘take care of you’ with the intention of him killing you. The only reason you’re alive is because of a failure of communication. I’ll try not to be so vague next time.” She looked at him, as her mouth subtly curled into a smile, his face, however, slightly contorted in fear. “Don’t worry. I don’t particularly feel like killing you at the moment.”

“Tell me if that changes,” he said with widened eyes.

“You’ll be the first to know.” 

Caspians hands were now clean, and Amara could hand him the bread. 

“What do you want, Caspian?” she asked, her eyes fixed on his. His head seemed to be full of thoughts. As was hers. 

“I want what is rightfully mine. The crown. If I get that then I can bring peace between us.” 

“And what about the war?”

“What war?”

“This will end in war.”

“You cannot know that for sure.” he shook his head. 

“Actually I can. And I do.” She looked at him with a stern face, thinking about the vision “do you want the Narnians to die so you may have your crown back?” 

“Of course I don’t want the Narnians to die. I don’t want anyone to die! But it is my responsibility to do what is best for the kingdo-”

“- _ best for the kingdom _ ? Ours or yours? How am I to know that you will not lead us into a trap, so Telmar may be rid of us, once and for all!?” She hissed, getting up from the ground to distance herself from him. But he got up with her. 

“Do you doubt my intentions? My own uncle, Miraz, tried to have me killed! And soldiers who were meant to protect me were willing to do so. I want peace just as much as you! I want to go home!” His eyes were slightly glossy as he almost yelled at her, and for a split second, she felt bad for him. She recalled what Truffles had said about him.  _ He is good _ .

“I’m sorry,” she took a deep breath-” I do not doubt your intentions, however, I do doubt your capability to decide what is best for  _ my _ people. So many have died at the hands of the Telmarines, and I am not willing to let a single one lose their life that way again. Not at your command nor the Kings and Queens once they get here” she said the last bit in a more hushed voice, everyone had yet to heard of their return, and it was to stay so until the announcement. 

“Look, this will end with death no matter what. I  _ know _ Miraz. When he captured Trumpkin he will without a doubt have pinned my disappearance on the Narnians. By now he will have gathered an army, which he will use to hunt them down. That cannot be stopped unless I get the crown back.” He made sense, perhaps the war cannot be stopped, perhaps the only thing they can control is how prepared they are going to be when it comes. However, a horrible thought crossed Amara’s mind. If the Telmarines thought they’d kidnapped Caspian, why not just hand him back? After that Miraz could kill him and the Narnians would be out of their way. That would be just one death. But no. “I want what is best for my people and that does not involve having Miraz as king.”

“So be it. I hope you know what you’re doing,” Amara said, as she was called upon by Nikabrik, who announced that the rest of the Narnians had gathered at the Dancing Lawn. 

It was night, however, the moonlight and a few well-placed lanterns illuminated all the centaurs, dwarves, fauns, minotaurs, and animals who were gathered around Caspian in a circle. And they were not happy. They were all yelling simultaneously making it hard to extinguish what was actually being said. Caspian was turning, and turning in the middle of it trying his best to hear what they were saying. One could distinguish the occasional, “Murderer!” “Liar!” “Kill him!”

“All this horn proves is that they’ve stolen yet another thing from us!” Nikabrik yelled accusingly. 

“I didn’t steal anything,” Caspian said to his defense but this only made them all the more outraged.

“Didn’t steal anything? Shall we list the things the Telmarines have taken?” a Minotaur, Tavros, yelled. 

Windmade, a female centaur and a good friend of Amara’s joined in. “Our homes!”

“Our freedom!” a faun added.   
“Our lives!”

“Quiet!” Amara said, not at all louder than the rest of them, but she was in command and they respected that. A silence followed. “The horn worked. Prince Caspian brought back the Kings and Queens of Narnia.”

Whispers and murmurs spread throughout the crowd. “Is it true? Are they really back? Where are they..”

“Then what do we need him for?!” A Narnian erupted. 

Amara stepped slightly forward, slowly turning around so she could see all of them as she spoke: “It is true! I’ve seen the Kings and Queens with my own eyes and they are on their way, and when they get here, would you like them to see us unprepared? No! We will ready ourselves for the war for it is inevitable. Our scouts have spotted the Telmarines building a bridge across the river. When that is finished… The Telmarines will come! And they will slaughter us like they always have. Unless we can combine our strength with the knowledge Caspian has of his people! The Telmarines are building a bridge across the river, and we must build a bridge between our worlds,  **that** is who Caspian can be for us!”

Silence befell on the crowd once again as they seemed to take in the suggestion. A few nodded and a few looked at dismay. Amara’s eyes fell on Caspian who looked at her with knitted eyebrows, obviously confused that she would come to his defence. As was she. 

“But he is still a Telmarine! Look at what they have done to us!” Tavros shouted. 

“You would hold me accountable for all the crimes of my people?” Caspian asked. 

“Accountable…and punishable!” Nikabrik said with venom as he stepped down from a rock, approaching Caspian.

Reepicheep, the leader of a group of mice who had helped Amara on several missions, unsheathed his rapier and came in between them, “That’s words from you, dwarf. Or have you forgotten that it was your people who fought alongside the White Witch?” he said as he gestured his rapier towards Nikabrik’s face who basked it away with his hand. 

“And I’d gladly do it again if it would rid us of these barbarians!”

Amara sent Nikabrik a look that could kill. Jaw clenched. Face turning red. She was about to step forward. But Trufflehunter did so instead.

“Then we are lucky it is not in your power to bring her back. Or do you want us to ask this boy to go against Amara… or Aslan?” This caused the Narnians to once again erupt in shouting. But Trufflehunter was quick to decrease it as he continued: “Some of you may have forgotten, but we badgers remember well, that Narnia was never right except when a son of Adam was king.”

Amara was grateful that Trufflehunter said what he said, but wished that he hadn’t suggested he should be king. The Narnians would never accept a Telmarine ruler, especially not now that the return of the Old King and Queens have been announced. 

“He’s a Telmarine! Why would we want him as our king?” Nikabrik rightfully said, and shouting followed. 

“Because I can help you,” Caspian said to him. He then raised his eyes to look at the rest of the crowd. ”Beyond these woods, I am a prince. The Telmarine throne is rightfully mine. Help me claim it, and I can bring peace between us.” His eyes were full of something that Amara hadn’t seen for a long time. Hope. 

He then looked to Amara, almost as a way of seeking approval, instinctively she sent him a discreet nod. 

“It is true. The time is ripe. I watch the skies, for it is mine to watch as it is yours to remember, badger, and as it is yours to fight, Amara. Tarva, the Lord of Victory, and Alambill, the Lady of Peace have met, and here a son of Adam has come forth to offer us back our freedom.“ Glenstorm said. He was held in high regard by all Narnians, and almost considered a second in command to Amara. He was the leader of the centaurs and she was the leader of them all. 

Pattertwig, a hyperactive squirrel climbed forth on a tree branch and spoke to Amara, “Is it possible? Do you really think there could be peace? Do you? I mean, really?” 

Amara simply nodded and looked to Caspian, giving him the opportunity to answer.

“Two days ago, I didn’t believe in the existence of talking animals, or dwarfs, or centaurs. Yet, here you are…” Prince Caspian said gesturing to each group, as he continued his voice grew larger. “In strength and numbers, we Telmarines could never have imagined. Whether this horn had been magic or not, it brought us together. And together, we have a chance to take back what is ours.“

Amara stood speechless for a moment. Caspian had spoken passionately, and there was a hope radiating off of him that she hadn’t expected. It was moving. Motivating. It was clear that the Narnians thought so too.

She now stepped forward, looking directly at Caspian. His eyes caught hers and for a moment he feared that she might go against her. She didn’t. 

“If you will bring peace to this kingdom, then I offer you my allegiance, my trust, loyalty, and protection.” Amara took one of the swords from her back and raised in front of her as a symbol. This lead to a ripple effect of Narnians doing the same.

“If You will lead us, then my sons and I offer You our swords,” Glenstorm said. 

“And we offer You our lives… unreservedly.” Reepicheep bowed down before Caspian and Amara. 

Caspian looked to Amara, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. Hers did the same. It had been a long time since the Narnians had been so united. 

Trufflehunter walked up to the side of Amara, “Miraz’ army will not be far behind.”

“If we are to be ready for them, we must hurry to find soldiers and weapons. I am sure they will be here soon, but hopefully not sooner than the Kings and Queens of Old,” Caspian said. 


	6. The Delegation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is a short chapter, but the next one will be a lot longer, and maybe you might get to read about what happened before the Telmarines. Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! Always nice with motivation!

#  CHAPTER SIX

Amara walked through the woods, in the company of Caspian, Reepicheep and his squadron of mice, Glenstorm and a couple of other centaurs. They marched with the intention of reaching the river, where a good portion of Miraz’ army was currently residing. To have the advantage of being invisible in the dark, they had to be back before sunup. Their plan was to quickly infiltrate their outer camp and loot their weapons and food with a minimum amount of casualties. If all went according to plan, they wouldn’t know that they’d been there before next morning. 

Amara was still pondering whether she had made the right decision in supporting Caspian. She listened to her thoughts, not liking at all where they were going. 

Amara walked a couple of paces in front of Caspian who made a tad bit too much noise for her liking. Every time he took a step he somehow managed to crunch a twig under his enormous feet. How is it that a centaur with four hooves makes less noise than a lean boy? He must have caught on by Amara’s annoyance with his inelegancy, because he started to almost tip-toe, possibly due to Amara’s constant side-eye in his direction. 

Unlike him, she’d had to sneak around for the better part of her life, and having lived in the woods for a solid thousand years did give her a slight advantage in that field.  She walked silently, every step was with precision yet came as naturally as breathing, almost as if she levitated across the forest floor. 

“Amara.” 

Her head snapped in Caspian´s direction, instantly shushing him. Not that it stopped him.

“Thank you. For standing up for me at the Dancing Lawn. I must say it wasn’t quite what I expected,” he continued softly, walking up next to her.

“Think nothing of it. If war is inevitable then we cannot face it with a divided front,” she answered pragmatically, as a means to brush him off. There was something about him, she knew she should hate him, but she just found it really hard to do so. Probably because of the natural charisma that came with being royalty.

“I can’t sort you out,” he looked at her with a quizzical look, “most of the Narnians support me now, but there are still some that seem to hate me-”

“-Nikabrik, you mean,” she stated, it was obvious where Nikabrook stood in relation to Prince Caspian. Like her, he'd proposed they killed him. 

“Why, yes. He is amongst them. But what I cannot figure out is... whether you are too?” His eyes seemed to be mapping out her face as if looking at her long enough would somehow magically give him the answer. 

“And let’s keep it that way I,” she said, a slight smirk playing on her lips, “I would  _ hate _ to be predictable.”

Prince Caspian chuckled. He was even more confused by her now. She was serious, yet amusing. A short silence followed as they trudged through the woods. Well, he trudged. She stepped carefully. A part of her knew that she shouldn't be friendly with him since he would, most likely, be dead by the end of the week, that was what usually happened with Telmarines who strayed. There hadn't been a lot, only a handful of people throughout the thousand years they'd been here who'd tried to fight back against the Telmarinian regime. They either disappeared, died, or went back to the Telmarines. All of which was still a possibility for young Prince Caspian. 

“Caspian?” She murmured, getting his attention. “The Narnians are well within their rights to not like you, you know.”

His eyebrows rose, possibly expecting to be scolded or told off. 

But she didn’t do any of those, instead, she spoke calmly. “They just don’t trust you, which is quite understandable. But all you need to do to gain that trust is to prove yourself.”

“How do I do that?” 

She took a deep breath, pondering what to answer.

“Help med secure these weapons and it’ll be a start,”

“What did you do?” he asked, and she sent him a puzzled look and he suddenly felt as though he was walking on thin ice, “I mean, you’re obviously not a born Narnian, so you must be a Telmarine as well.”

Amara suddenly felt a sudden need to hit him across the face but thought better of it. A part of what he said was true. She wasn’t born a Narnian. But to be compared to a Telmarine was amongst the worsts of insults that have been directed at her. Bear in mind she was two thousand years old. 

Before Amara had a chance to respond, Reepicheep walked up beside him, sporting a sterner look than Amara had ever seen him hold before, “Forgive me for my bluntness, sire, but Amara is more Narnian than you or I could ever be.” He then retreated back to his band of mice who walked a couple of paces behind them. 

Glenstorm and his centaurs were still in the back. Although they moved with grace they were quite easy to spot and had to remain hidden. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Caspian said, his dark brown eyes looked so apologetic that he probably hadn’t needed to say sorry at all. His eyes could easily speak for him at times.

“It’s alright. But you shouldn’t make a habit out of it,” she said with a smile, which quickly faded as she looked behind him. Swiftly, she grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against a tree as quickly and quietly as she was able. 

Two Telmarine soldiers. 

They were patrolling the area. Scouts. They were headed Amara’s way. She was tightly pressed against Caspian’s chest, feeling his laboured breathing against her face. He was frightened, his widened eyes gave him away. And she tried not to get distracted by them, big as they may be. 

The soldiers were about 20 paces away and coming closer with every second. 

Amara looked to her side and saw that Glenstorm had hidden along with the mice. Reepicheep signalled her with his drawn rapier on whether or not he should kill him. Amara shook her head ‘no’. 10 paces. 

She looked up at Caspian, and her eyes were filled with something he had not seen in her before. The girl he had chatted with seconds ago, was now transformed into someone else entirely. A killer. Still pressed against his chest her hand went down her leg, grabbing the shaft of two daggers and took them out of their sheat. 5 paces. She closed her eyes, listening to the soft crunch of leaves underneath their feet.

They were by the tree now, right next to Amara and Caspian, who tensed, aching to do something. Before they got the chance to see her, she swept the legs out from under one of the soldiers, as he fell to the ground, with the strength of a giant, she lunged a dagger into his heart, easily piercing the armour. The other soldier barely had time to react. She rose, prodding the other knife into his head, from under his chin. Instant death. _A merciful kill_ she told herself. She grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly lowered him to the ground to prevent a loud thud that could possibly alert other nearby soldiers. 

The others came out from their hiding and approached Amara with caution. 

“Glenstorm, stay here with the centaurs. We’re close enough to the river now and your presence will draw attention. Reepicheep, your mice will eliminate any threats to the mission and help us secure the weapons, once secured- Caspian and I will carry the weapons out to you, and we will form a line to get them out of the enemy zone,” she said, looking at Glenstorm. She then turned to Reepicheep, “moving the weapons from the river will take time and it is vital that there is a dependable perimeter, this you will manage.”

“With pleasure, General.” Reepicheep bowed. Amara rolled her eyes at the General title, yet chose not to correct him this time. She couldn’t count the times she’d told the brave mouse not to call her that. But in many ways “General” was exactly what she was. 

They proceeded towards the river with caution, moving more swiftly than ever. A single soldier sat on a small stool, with his back against one of the five wagons. As Amara got closer, it was apparent that the soldier was sleeping. She quickly scanned the area for additional soldiers and saw a fire a little further down the bank. As of now, they posed no threat. 

“Caspian,” she whispered, as she neared the wagon, but then gestured to the soldier. “Take care of him.”

Caspian’s eyes widened, “he’s asleep!”

Now was not the time for moral conundrums.  Amara opened the door to the wagon and jumped up and into it, deliberately making a sound, which made the soldier stir and blink rapidly. 

“Not anymore,” Amara said, raising her eyebrows at Caspian.

That’s when Caspian realized what she was doing. She was testing him to see where his loyalty lied. 

The soldier looked at Caspian and Amara in horror as he realized he was under attack, and just as he reached for his sword, opening his mouth to call out for backup– Caspian pierced the soldier’s heart with his sword. 

Amara carried the boxes to the end of the wagon, so she could hand them to Caspian on the ground, but he was still looking at the soldier. His sword clenched tightly in his fist. That’s when she realized... _it had been his first kill_.  She jumped out of the wagon, landing soundlessly on the ground. She put her hand on his tight shoulders, but he quickly jerked away from her almost as if she was going to attack him.  Amara wasn’t offended. And simply stood in front him, trying her best to show him that she understood. She'd been 17 when she had her first kill, but she was always 17, so it didn't really count. 

His steadied his breathing when he realized it was her and not another soldier. He was somehow staring at her but at the same time, not staring at anything at all. His face was as white as his clenched fist. 

Amara stood in front of him, waiting patiently for him to come back to reality. 

“Do you ever feel guilty? About the deaths.” He asked, his voice a mere whisper. 

Images flashed before Amara’s eyes. She’d killed lots of people. But the ones she regretted the most, was not the ones she’d killed, but the ones who’d died because of her choices and mistakes. The ones where she’d failed as a leader. 

“Don’t ask me that again, Prince. I currently owe you my allegiance, but nothing more.” She sneered. 

His eyes fell to the ground, and she realized how harsh she’d come off. He was going through a lot right now. 

She took a deep breath and placed a hand on his shoulder again. This time he didn’t jerk away. “No,” Amara said, “I don’t have time to feel guilty, and neither do you. This is war. People die. Make your peace with it.”

It wasn’t exactly the reassuring words of wisdom he’d hoped for but it was something. 

They started unloading the many weapons, including swords, bows, arrows, shields. Right by the edge of the woods, the others had formed a line to carry the things out to the centaurs. 

They worked through the rest of the night, and as the sun rays in the early morning threatened to expose them, Amara decided it was time to leave. 

Caspian, however, was using a knife to carve something into the door of the wagon.

Amara approached him. “We have to go! What are you doing?”

“Leaving a message.” He replied, concentrating on his carving.

Amara grabbed him by his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. If he left a message, signing his name, the Telmarines would see it as a declaration of war, and they'd know he was the one who led it. “Once you do that, there’s no going back.”

“I know.” he said, unflinchingly his stare met hers, and she could see the certainty in his eyes.  She loosened her grip and allowed him to continue, she smiled, knowing now, that he could be trusted, not necessarily to act on the best interest of the Narnians, but at least he'd be focused on the demise of King Miraz and his soldiers. The enemy of my enemy...

Reepicheep came up to the two of them and quickly bowed before informing them that scouts had spotted several Telmarines heading towards the river. 

“It’s time to go, Prince Caspian,” Amara stated impatiently. 

“Just a second-,” he said, and carved in an “X”, for Prince Caspian the Tenth. 

YOU WERE RIGHT TO FEAR THE WOODS. 

X.

Reepicheep read the message he’d left and chuckled knowingly. “It was never the woods they feared, Sire, it was her.” He gestured towards Amara who was walking towards the others.  Caspian looked at Reepicheep questionably, as they walked side by side. 

“What do you mean?”

Reepicheep smiled. “How do you think she came into power? When the Narnians were defeated and Cair Paravel fell, many fled to the woods. Amara included. Lots of years went by, and any hope of a Narnian rebellion died out. But Amara who lived alone at the time was one of the first to fight back against the Telmarines. You see, they used to transport wagons full of all kinds of treasure through the woods, and when they came, Amara attacked them. She killed them and took their loot, and gave it back to the Narnians. She must’ve killed hundreds on her own before the other Narnians decided to join her. And slowly but surely, they turned to her for leadership, advice, and protection.”

Caspian looked at Amara who walked out of earshot several paces ahead along with Glenstorm. She was a mystery to him. She looked so young, innocent, and dare he say- weak. But what he’d heard about her told quite a different story. She was a warrior. And old. Very old. It was sometimes visible in her mannerisms, the way she carried herself, how she was so sure of her every move, how she could look at the world as if she’d experienced everything twice already as if her eyes knew all the secrets of the world. As if her eyes knew his secrets.

It was morning when they finally returned to Aslan’s How which had become their base of operations. Their arrival was celebrated, but the celebration was short-lived, as Amara quickly put everyone back to work, forging weapons, distributing food, setting up the camp. 

The Kings and Queens of Old were supposed to have been there, but come nightfall they still hadn’t arrived. 


	7. Pevensies meet Caspian. Caspian, Pevensies.

Amara awoke in the early morning the next day. She’d hardly gotten any sleep, and she wasn’t the only one. Fatigue was weighing down on a lot of the Narnians, and Amara feared that she was working them too hard. 

But none of them got less sleep than she did. She was the first one to wake up and the last one to go to sleep. Not only since she had to manage them all, but because of the nightmares. They were becoming more and more frequent, as they usually did during wartime. Her mind was filled with horrible images of people who’d died. Sometimes even people who hadn’t died yet. That was what had been troubling her the most, recently, she’d been having nightmares about her vision. The vision of Prince Caspian and the Pevensies causing the slaughter of the Narnians, a threat that seemed very real at the moment.

She got dressed and made her way past sleeping Narnians to the exit of the How. 

Aslan’s How was an underground tomb with many hollowed-out tunnels. The centre of the tomb was the split Stone Table, where the Narnians had worked diligently on weapons and armour. Now, most of them were asleep, scattered throughout the tunnel system. It wasn’t a pleasant place: it was cramped, stuffy, and void of natural light. Most of the time, she felt as though she was suffocating in there, or being buried alive, so, before her duty would force her to spend yet another day in there, she went for a walk, hoping to relieve the team that had been scouting the area overnight. She grabbed her weapons before leaving and nodded to one of the guards by the door. A faun, by the name of Threstial. 

Outside, twilight was slowly melting away and in turn, becoming a majestic sunrise, shining light upon the treetops, every leaf, every blade of grass, illuminated by a pinkish glow. Even though this was the landscape she’d looked upon for a thousand years she’d never grow tired of walking through the forest. Her home. The beauty and tranquillity were immeasurable. But as always, it was bittersweet. Seeing how docile the trees had become. Trees she’d once known by name and had danced with on summer evenings. Trees that were now– simply trees. 

Amara was attentive, and when she heard a twig snap, she was behind a tree immediately, with a dagger in hand.  _ Quicker than the wind and harsher than fire _ , as Edmund had once said. 

It was simply a minotaur scouting the area, as she was, and she quickly sheathed her dagger. But something felt-  _ off _ . Then she saw them through some trees, on the opposite side of the minotaur.

Peter and Lucy.

Lucy was hiding behind a rock.

Peter… Peter was drawing his sword, with a determined look on his face. His battle look. One that she knew all too well. 

Amara was about to call out to him but was distracted, as Caspian came out of nowhere. He swung his sword against Peter’s, lowering his defences. They began fighting. Peter parried quickly, reflexively. 

“Stop!” Amara called out, but they didn’t hear her. She started sprinting towards them, covering the distance half the time a normal human would. “Stop!”

They didn’t hear, they cut and thrust relentlessly, aggressively, none of them yielding. Peter connected the butt of his sword with Caspian’s face, momentarily making him stagger. But Caspian was quick to counter and their blades met once again. There was a brief standstill as their strength matched one another, but Peter had the high ground and twisted his sword and disarmed Caspian whose weapon went flying to the side. Peter swung once again, and Caspian leapt backwards, ducking at Peter’s next blow that went into the tree, sticking. Caspian kicked him and he fell. Peter recovered, about to come at Caspian with a rock clenched tightly in his fist.

But before Peter had a chance to hit Caspian who was unsticking the sword from the tree, Amara leapt in front of him, with her sword pointing towards Peter’s throat. “I said enough!” She sneered.

They both stopped. Looking at her with wide eyes, momentarily stunned. 

“Now, stand down!” She commanded, and Peter dropped the rock.  _ Bloody idiots _ . 

Peter looked around in bewilderment as Narnians came out of hiding, surrounding them. That’s when he realized.

“Prince Caspian?” Peter asked, looking past Amara, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. And who are you?” Caspian spat back. 

“Prince Caspian, meet High King Peter,” Amara said, taking a step back and sheathing her sword. 

´Edmund and Trumpkin ran up to them along with Susan, who’d called out Peter’s name in distress before she saw what was happening, and then freezing for a second. Caspian looked to them, his eyes lingering a second too long on Susan. 

“I thought you’d be older,” Caspian said.  _ As did I _ , Amara thought.

“Well, if you’d like, we can come back in a few years.”

Amara had to stifle a laugh at Peter’s comment, Edmund was the funniest of the siblings, but Peter always had a way to make her laugh with his stiff humour. 

“No! No, that’s alright. You’re just… You’re not exactly what I expected.”

Edmund joined the awkward conversation, “Neither are you.” He looked at a minotaur. Amara remembered, the last time they saw a minotaur, they were fighting against it. 

“A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes,” Trufflehunter said wisely, as always. 

Reepicheep turned to Peter, and Amara braced herself for whatever grand gesture he was about to throw himself into. “We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege. Our hearts and swords are at your service.” Peter smiled in response. 

Lucy whispered to Susan, “Oh my gosh, he is so cute.”

Amara had to stifle a laugh yet again, which caused Caspian to glance at her. The first time he had noticed her anywhere near a genuine smile, and it was an expression that seemed foreign on her usually grave face. The smile died out as suddenly as it had appeared.

Reepicheep drew his sword quickly, ready to jump into battle. “Who said that?!”

“Reepicheep…” Amara warned. 

“Sorry…” Lucy said sheepishly. 

“Oh, uh… your majesty. With the greatest respect…” Reepicheep bowed before Lucy, “I do believe courageous, courteous, or chivalrous might more befit a knight of Narnia.”

“Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade,” Peter joined in, obviously hinting that comment at Prince Caspian who looked displeased.

“Yes, indeed.” Reepicheep continued. “And I have recently put it to good use acquiring weapons for your army, sire.” He referenced 

Amara clenched her fist, at Reepicheep’s wording of “ **your** army.” She knew she wasn’t Queen of the Narnians or anything, but for a long time, it had felt as though it was  **her** army. After all, she’d been here, and he hadn’t. 

“Good. Because we’re going to need every sword we can get,” he replied.

Caspian who was still slightly out of breath joined the conversation. “Well then, you'll probably be wanting yours back.” He handed Rhindon to Peter, and they exchanged a look that said neither of them was pleased with the situation. 

As they walked towards Aslan’s How, Amara, Prince Caspian, Reepicheep, and Glenstorm took the opportunity to brief the Pevensies.

“Now, tell me, how many weapons have we secured?” Peter asked.

Amara answered him as indifferently as possible, ignoring how her heart ached when he spoke. “Enough for three regiments at least.” The question had been directed towards the other men and Peter looked at Amara quizzically, as if he barely knew her at all. In many ways, she was a stranger to him now. 

“What about casualties?” He added.

“On the mission? I killed three Telmarines and we suffered no Narnian losses.” Not this time at least. But she had an ominous feeling that would soon change. 

“ _ You _ took down three Telmarines?” He asked incredulously.

It burned in Amara's chest, not liking how he underestimated her. “You will soon discover, that I’m not the maiden in distress whom you once knew.” 

Peter looked as if he was about to apologize, but she didn’t give him the chance, as she slowed her pace to walk next to Nikabrik, Trumpkin, and Trufflehunter. Her family. 

On the way back to the How, Amara couldn’t help but notice how much had changed between Peter and her since they met. But to understand that, one has to go back a little further. The thing is, Amara didn’t know much about how she came to be. She only knew what she’d been told by Jadis– the White Witch, her aunt. 

Jadis had said that she’d killed her sister, Amara’s mother and rightful Queen to their homeworld and that Jadis had then taken Amara, who was just a baby, to Narnia in year 0. Amara never understood why Jadis had taken her, if she’d merely been a trophy which she could taunt her sister with, or if she deep down had cared about her in some twisted way.

In Narnia, Jadis had found the Tree of Youth in the Forbidden Garden and had stolen and eaten a silver-grey apple that had made her immortal and stronger and prouder than ever, and even, in a way, triumphant. But it also held a curse:

“ _ For those who steal or those who climb my wall, shall find their heart’s desire and find despair. Length of days with an evil heart is only length of misery. _ ”

The apple had also made her deadly white, and devoid of love. That’s when she fled to the darkness and coolness of the far North of Narnia. Her heart had always been defective, but after the apple, it was nothing but an empty black pit. A pit she tried to fill with violence and terror. She built her army and started conquering what she could.

Amara was still a baby, but, as she grew up, Jadis became jealous of her. As she had with her mother— She envied her kindness, her power, beauty, ability to feel, and hated her reluctance to kneel before her. 

Jadis had immortality, but what use is immortality if you cannot share it with anyone? So she’d given Amara the apple, and she’d eaten it without knowing the curse it held.

Amara had felt as though a dark cloud surrounded her heart and her thoughts, separating her from all things good, a feeling she still had. 

She’d become immortal, and carried the same curse as Jadis, but because she hadn’t stolen the apple, certain technicalities of the curse didn’t apply to her. The apple had made her strong and immortal but hadn’t made her heart evil to the same extent as Jadis. 

Greed consumed Jadis. And in year 898 she returned to Narnia from the Far North with her army, and Amara who lived in a prison. Jadis liked to keep her around, a great part of the reason was that Amara had visions. Or prophecies. And knowing the future meant you could control it. 

Amara had been the one to tell the prophecy of the Golden Age. A fact, she’d never shared with the Pevensies, since her prophecy was what had put them on Jadis’ kill list and in danger.

_ Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight, _

_ At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more, _

_ When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death, _

_ And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again. _

_ When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, _

_ Sits at Cair Paravel in throne, _

_ The evil time will be over and done. _

Two years later the Long Winter began. Amara had tried to stop her aunt, but Jadis had frozen her. 

She’d been a frozen statue for a century until the Pevensies had arrived in the year 1000. 

During the battle, after Aslan’s sacrifice, Aslan ran to Jadis’ castle with Lucy and Susan on his back. They entered the freezing castle and found statues of many Narnians. They were frozen in fear, terror, and panic, but amongst that chaos, Lucy found a girl. A girl who stood tall above the rest, not crouched in fear or midst battle, but with her head held high and a look of solace and defiance on her face. As if, being frozen had happened many times before. And it had. 

Aslan’s breath of life was what had set her free. All the blood in her body had been warmed, and her sudden change of state almost made her collapse if Susan hadn’t caught her. As soon as she laid her eyes upon Susan and Lucy, she knew what was to come. The demise of her aunt. After all, she’d foreseen it. 

Amara was weak and feeble, but she joined them in the battlefield nonetheless. 

At this point, she’d never fought before, and she wasn’t the skilled warrior, she was today. She didn’t do magic, and she never intended to. Magic was what had corrupted her aunt’s soul and she wasn’t going to let that happen to her. 

One of the few skills Amara had was silence— a skill she’d acquired, growing up in the castle alongside a witch who didn’t want children to be heard.

When Amara arrived at the battlefield on Aslan’s back, Jadis was about to kill a boy, dressed in the armour of a king. He laid on the ground, not terrified, but bravely facing his imminent death. Her sword was raised into the air, about to come down on him and end his life, but before she had a chance to strike, a dagger pierced her heart. She hadn’t heard her coming— quiet as a mouse, Amara had snuck up behind her and killed the White Queen with one of her daggers, and saved the life of the boy. High King Peter. 

Jadis’s body fell to the ground, and Amara collapsed with her. She was so tired, and the freedom that followed the death of her aunt had come over her like a wave. 

She was brought back to Cair Paravel and nursed back to health. Amara became friends with the Pevensies easily. They were all friendly, and she was forever grateful for being invited into their home. It was one of the first times she’d ever experienced kindness and she moved into the castle with them and was there for their coronation and every ball they had. 

Peter, who’d been quite young at the time, had instantly fallen for Amara, who was four years his senior. She was smart and kind yet quiet. She didn’t speak much and he didn’t know much about her, but they were good friends nonetheless, and as he grew up, Amara came to see the appealing aspects of him as well. He was no longer a boy, but a brave man, whom she came to love. 

Amara looked back on the years she had with Peter as the best years of her life. She’d been happy. She’d spent her days basking in the sun, reading poetry with Susan, talking to trees with Lucy, occasionally playing chess with Edmund, but mostly sparring with him, which she was quite terrible at. She did lots of things. But one thing she didn’t do was talk about what had happened or who she was. She never mentioned her immortality, her curse, her powers, or the fact that Jadis was her aunt. No one knew. 

But she did talk about some things. Only to Edmund though. He was the only one of the Pevensies who truly knew the extent of the White Witch’s psychological torture. Amara could see the scars it had left on Edmund’s mind, they were the same that she carried. But over the years the scars started to heal, and the nightmares slowly went away. 

But when the occasional nightmare came, Peter was always there to hold her. 

But not anymore. She wasn’t a quiet, naïve girl anymore, she was the leader of an army. And he wasn’t the man she knew anymore either, he was someone else. A stranger. 

Now, they neared a hilly mound of the earth also known as Aslan’s How. The centaurs had lined up on either side of the entrance, raising their swords, as the Pevensies passed in between them. 

Amara noticed how Caspian had stopped to let the Pevensies go first. It was a part of royal etiquette to let the ones with the highest rank go first. Considering, the Pevensies were kings and queens they obviously went first, but Caspian was still a mere prince and had to fall behind. Amara was a general, and was outranked by all of them, and walked in the back, in front of the soldiers.

The inside of the How was a flurry of activity, weapons were being made and transported, sleeping areas were being set up, armour was mended, and lots of other stuff. 

“It may not be what you’re used to, but it’s defensible.” Prince Caspian told them, while they took it all in. 

“Peter, you may want to see this,” Susan interrupted.

The Pevensies left to go explore the rest of the How with Caspian, and of course, Amara knew where they were going. First, they’d see the carvings on the wall, depicting the story of their arrival and conquest, and next they’d be led to the cracked Stone Table. 

Amara had spent a lot of days in there, waiting for Aslan to return and help fight the Telmarines, but he never came. So, instead of being reminded of being abandoned, she stayed amid the activity and gave orders. 

“Glenstorm, I need a tally of swords by the end of the night, as well as how many we additional weapons we need,” she then addressed one of the fauns. “Nausus, you’re in charge of bows and arrows, make sure we have enough resources to make them, if not, sent out a team to acquire more. Also, talk to Queen Susan, she might be able to help train more archers.” With a curt nod, the centaur and faun set off to do their duties. Amara kept walking through the encampment until she found the kitchens. (“Kitchen” is a generous word considering, it was just the food supply, a fireplace, and a big pot.) “Cooks, make sure the needs of the kings and queens are taken care of. We can’t have them go hungry. Also, one of you needs to make sure they have a private section of the How where they can sleep, and change.” 

Amara was grateful to see that everyone still followed her command. After everyone had bowed before the Kings and Queens outside of the How, she wasn’t sure that they would. After all, she wasn’t exactly their official leader, and everyone had missed them so much when they were gone. She wasn’t sure what title or power she held anymore. But regardless of how much power they would get, she would always do what was best for Narnia. 

But was that still true?

If she wanted to do what was best for Narnia she should’ve killed Prince Caspian. After all, his union with the Pevensies would lead to war and death amongst the Narnians, that much she’d foreseen. But how would it all end? Would the end justify the means?


End file.
